Military Tomfoolery: The Adventures of Squad 108
by Sir Thinkstoomuch
Summary: A retarded adventure of a small military squad in WWII. It's explained entirely herein, but really this particular piece couldn't pass for more than a 15-minute cartoon. Guaranteed to make you reread several lines over and over out of confusion.


**Hey there. The real point I submitted this story is to ensure any viewers of my current project that I'm not dead and will continue it as soon as I get past this amazing writer's block.**

**Anyways, the story behind this is pretty stupid. See, I have this friend, who has a friend who goes to the same school as him. This friend of my friend is named Drew Glidewell. Anyways, this is Drew's story that he submitted for a project in his English class. Anyways, my friend got a hold of a copy of it, and he decided to "tweak" it a bit. He showed it to me and I laughed my ass off. But since he knows that I can think of funnier stuff than he can, he gave it to me to mess with. Sad mistake. He nearly shit himself when he read this, although that's not much of an achievement, since he laughs like hell at everything. Oh well.**

**Honestly, I've been thinking about doing a fictional war story with a bunch of gags mixed in, but not for a while. This shall serve as my inspiration until then.**

**BTW, a bit on the story, Private Billybobmoebobjoebobharris (Billybob for short) is what we've changed Drew's character into. The entire story is from his point of view, except for the more third-person omnipotent parts. Major Potterfield is my friend who showed this to me the first time, and Brigadier General Duhon is me. Yay!**

**There's probably a few title and grammar mishaps in here but, come on. I can't be expected to catch everything, can I?**

**Rated M for intense languages. And stuff.**

Drew AstroGlide

Mr. Schipper

English 9/10

21 December 2012

Squad 0.108: Military Tomfoolery

_This story takes place in the heart of Allied Britain. It is the year 2101.War was beginning. I am Private first class (Pfc .) Billybobmoebobjoebobharris. Or Private Billybob for short._

Major (Maj.) Potterfield, Sergeant (Sgt.) Hung-Low and I are trapped by enemy mortar fire, in a small building. Suddenly, the mortar fire stops. "Yes, this is our chance to get back to the rest of --"says Sgt Hung-Low before he is violently interrupted. With the speed of whatever can match the speed of bullets, bullets rip through the window and into Hung-Low's body and kill him. Stunned and disgusted at the fact that Hung-Low voided his bowels shortly before dying, Lt. Potterfield and I just sit there. After about five minutes of dumb silence, we hear knocks on the door of the room. I get up and open the door with one hand, because the other still has my bottle of '36 Chateau in it. Standing in the door way was Sgt. Johnson, Corporal (Cpl.) Jackson, and Private (Pvt.) Niemeyer, the rest of my squad.

"Private Billybob, we're coming in! And don't bother putting on pants. I've forgotten mine too," says Cpl. Jackson.

"Sure, but I already have my pants on," I say.

"Oh," said Jackson. "Never mind then," he said while bent down and pulled up his army fatigue bottoms over his stars-and-stripes boxers.

After they came in, we heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Suddenly, there was a shout in English and a burst of heavy gunfire and rockets in the hall. After the building stopped shaking, I opened the door and in tumbled Pvt. Clumsy… er… Reed. Then, being as uncoordinated as he was, trips the two megaton bomb strapped to his nuts, killing himself and 2 others in our squad. As we grieve over the losses of Johnson, Reed and Jackson, and after pissing on their corpses, Pvt. Niemeyer goes out into the hall and immediately gets tackled by a big SS officer wearing a clown outfit and a ball gag. The officer draws a metal baseball bat and stabs Niemeyer in the face, crushing his visage and brain into a bloody pulp. But then Potterfield comes up behind him and shoots the officer in the back with a heat-seeking missile. The missile was a dud, but it still killed the officer by going clear through his kidneys, liver, and small and large intestines. Then I went over to the officer's corpse and search for any useable weapons and can't find anything but the bat, which was wedged in Niemeyer's big-ass head. He was bleeding profusely and he too voided his bowels. There wasn't much time left before we too would die of the stench.

Meanwhile back at H.Q., Major (Maj.) Fitzgerald, and Brigadier General (Bg.) Duhon were planning on how to turn the war in our favor.

"General, if we take out their mortar cannons and their ammo depot over here we might be able to gain a lot of land. But there is always the chance of them having an intense line of defense between here and Germany," informed Maj. Fitzgerald.

After what looked deceptively like intense thinking, Bg. Duhon brought his head up from it's resting place in a banana cream pie and exclaimed, "I've got it! We'll have what's left of squad 0.108 take out that other town near Britain then we can destroy all of their defenses. But have me take Pvt. Reed's place," commanded Bg. Duhon. "His dumb ass would probably blow up the rest of the squad before they reached the first checkpoint. Besides," he continued, "I feel the need to bust some head!" he exclaimed as he fired several shots from his handgun into the ceiling, creating some small holes.

"Sir we have no veteran soldiers who could be sent to the squad. I could send myself to be in there. Would that be ok? Sir?"

"No! It's too dangerous! If I lose you I'll never get that private access to your brewery again!" exclaimed Duhon while he violently shook the Major. He continued to shake him for a good five seconds more, then got up and downed a bottle of beer he had on the table. When he finished it he threw it on large pile of old beer bottles in the corner of the room and with a large burp he exclaimed, "Oh bullocks, fine! You can go! But we'll need to alert them! Hill! Get Pvt. Niemeyer on the line now!"

"Right away, sir!" replied Lt. Hill, the communications specialist, right before the several bullets that Duhon fired before broke through the ceiling again and flew right into Lt. Hill's skull and other various body parts.

"Dammit, Hill! Haven't I always told you to avoid the bullets I randomly fire into the ceiling!? Haven't I!?" yelled Bg. Duhon at Lt. Hill's broken corpse. As the Brigadier General continued to yell at the inanimate man, Maj. Fitzgerald got on the radio to contact Pvt. Niemeyer.

"Pvt. Niemeyer? Pvt. Niemeyer? Dammit, Niemeyer respond!" Maj. Fitzgerald cries. Soon after, someone picked up the radio, but it wasn't Pvt. Reed. Maj. Potterfield's voice comes out through the radio instead.

"Niemeyer is dead, sir. He was killed due to a huge wound to his big-ass head. Honestly, I always thought his death would involve a donkey, Harrison Ford, a cheesecake, a 12-gauge, and the Second Coming of Jesus. In any case, it's only me and Pvt. Monroe here now."

"Oh for Jesus Effing Christ Buckets! Bg. Duhon and I are on our way to your position. Can you two hold it?!"

"The Brigadier General's coming!? Uh… I… uh… You got it!" Maj. Potterfield replied, and the line went dead.

Bg. Duhon continued reprimanding the corpse of Hill for a little while more, then he finally got sick of the horrible smell coming from Hill's bowls, which had also been voided, so he and Maj. Fitzgerald went outside and headed towards the tank that had been left for them. As they get in, a German halftrack sees them and opens fire.

"Bullocks and Christ Crackers!" said Bg. Duhon. "Get into the tank NOW!"

Just as Maj. Fitzgerald was about to close the entry port however, a grenade flies into the hole and blows up the tank. It lies there in flames as the German patrol moves forward.

Sometime later, after night had fallen, Bg. Duhon emerges from under the wreckage unharmed. "Ha ha! You fail again!" he exclaims at the skies. "Nothing of this earth can harm me! For I have Kevlar woven into every inch of skin on me! I am indestructible!" he continued to shout until he became tired and flopped down on the wreckage, asleep.

Sometime later, Potterfield and I were still waiting for them. Finally, I got up and looked outside the door.

"So they were to arrive today at 1830, near us in a tank! WHERE IS HE?!" I screamed.

"Get a hold of yourself, Private!" Maj. Potterfield exclaimed as he slapped me. "He must have had some trouble. Tanks are slow after all. Let's backtrack and see what's wrong."

But before we could leave to find out what happened, I tripped and dropped a flash bang by accident, which goes off in front of me. I just see white, and hear a ringing in my ears. Maj. Potterfield rolls his eyes and helps me up.

"You've got to be CAREFUL with those things! You could've gone blind! That's why I wear THESE!" Potterfield then shows me his sunglasses. "Next time, watch yourself!"

As we venture on, we both catch sight of a burning Sherman tank. "DEAR GOD NO!!" Potterfield yells and runs over to the flaming hunk of metal. We keep looking and find the peacefully sleeping figure of Bg. Duhon. Right as we were about to wake him up, Duhon reaches up and grips us both by the throats.

"Alright, you idiotic dipshits! You're going to show me to the Tomb of Unimaginably Large Cherries or else I'll force you to eat… Kentucky… Fried… Chicken. Mua ha ha ha ha ha!

Struggling, I wrenched Duhon's grip off my neck slightly so I could talk. "Sir… you're… dreaming…."

Suddenly, the Brigadier General awoke and released his grip on us. "Oh, jeez! I… uh… didn't see you there Major. Um, I guess since we have no more weapons or anything, we should go get out of here."

"But sir!" exclaimed Maj. Potterfield, "We've still got you!"

"Gasp! You're right!" Duhon exclaimed as he randomly produced a large broadsword from his pants. "By the Power of Pine Sol! I have the Power!" he screamed as his army fatigues suddenly transformed into an off-the-shoulder loincloth. "Hop on, maggots! We've got some Germans to beat the crap out of!" he said to us as we gripped his legs. Suddenly, he lifted himself off of the ground and zipped away at Mach 5 speeds.

And so, when we reached the German base, the Brigadier General punched a hole into the ammunitions depot and we picked up a couple of demolition grade weapons and leveled the place.

"Alright Billybob," said Maj. Potterfield, "We're finished here, so radio air command and get us out of here.

"Right away sir!" I replied. Sometime later a C-47 transport picked us up. As I walked up the steps, I slipped and tumbled down the rest of the stairs. Potterfield laughed as I got up, but the Brigadier General simply kicked out one of the landing craft wheels of the transport so that it was lowered to my level.

"Now get on the damned plane so we can go the fuck home! It's been hours since I last had a drink, and I really feel like getting stoned right about now!"

At last though, I climb in and the transport took off. That was the last time I was sent on a mission. Once I got back to the base, I resigned from the war and left for the States again. Later I was turned evil by a secret gov't experiment and lived the rest of my life as an attorney for Microsoft.

Elsewhere, Maj. Potterfield was sent to China and stayed there for the rest of his life, eating cheap food and commanding various Mongol hordes.

As for the Brigadier General, he went back to his crime-fighting base in Sweden so he could rest up. Years later, I heard that he had single-handedly captured Canada and bombed the crap out of it.

Semper Fidelis!...

Ever Vigilant!...

The End!!


End file.
